Once Kabibonokka was rushing southward after the departing wild fowl, when he saw a figure on the frozen moorland. It was Shingebis, the diver, who had stayed in the country of the North-wind long after his tribe had gone away, and Shingebis was making ready to pass the winter there in spite of Kabibonokka and his gusty anger. He was dragging strings of fish to his winter lodge--enough to last him until spring should set the rivers free and fill the air once more with wild fowl and the waters with returning salmon. What did Shingebis care for the anger of Kabibonokka? He had four great logs to burn as firewood (one for each moon of the winter), and he stretched himself before the blazing fire and ate and laughed and sang as merrily as if the sun were warm and bright without his cheery wigwam. "Ho," cried Kabibonokka, "I will rush upon him! I will shake his lodge to pieces! I will scatter his bright fire and drive him far to the south!" And in the night Kabibonokka piled the snowdrifts high about the lodge of Shingebis, and shook the lodge-pole and wailed around the smoke-flue until the flames flared and the ashes were scattered on the floor. But Shingebis cared not at all. He merely turned the log until it burned more brightly, and laughed and sang as he had done before, only a little louder: "O Kabibonokka, you are but my fellow-mortal!" "I will freeze him with my bitter breath!" roared Kabibonokka; "I will turn him to a block of ice," and he burst into the lodge of Shingebis. But although Shingebis knew by the sudden coldness on his back that Kabibonokka stood beside him, he did not even turn his head, but blew upon the embers, struck the coals and made the sparks flicker up the smoke-flue, while he laughed and sang over and over again: "O Kabibonokka, you are but my fellow-mortal!" Drops of sweat trickled down Kabibonokka's forehead, and his limbs grew hot and moist and commenced to melt away. From his snow-sprinkled locks the water dripped as from the melting icicles in spring, and the steam rose from his shoulders. He rushed from the lodge and howled upon the moorland; for he could not bear the heat and the merry laughter and the singing of Shingebis, the diver. "Come out and wrestle with me!" cried Kabibonokka. "Come and meet me face to face upon the moorland!" And he stamped upon the ice and made it thicker; breathed upon the snow and made it harder; raged upon the frozen marshes against Shingebis, and the warm, merry fire that had driven him away. Then Shingebis, the diver, left his lodge and all the warmth and light that was in it, and he wrestled all night long on the marshes with Kabibonokka, until the North-wind's frozen grasp became more feeble and his strength was gone. And Kabibonokka rose from the fight and fled from Shingebis far away into the very heart of his frozen kingdom in the north.